The Twelve Days of Christmas
by little miss dracula
Summary: A series of more or less fluffy mini-fics all loosely based around the Christmas song, The Twelve Days of Christmas. All 10/Rose pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I hope you all had a very merry Christmas/a happy Hanukkah/a spiritually fulfilling Equinox/happy holidays/[insert your own here :D] I absolutely love Christmas - it's my absolute favourite time of the year - family, friends, food, wine and lots of potentially relationship threatening board games :D . And there is SNOW in England, so I'm a very happy girl! Anyway, I was talking with my family on Christmas day, and suddenly got an idea for a cute series of ficlets, so here they are! They're very (VERY) loosely (in some cases, like the one below, barely) themed around the '12 Days of Christmas' song, all feature 10/Rose, and all of them are very fluffy, so be warned :D **

**Enjoy, Reader**

**L_M_D**

_On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree._

The Doctor sat in the console room, idly flicking through some books that Rose had picked up on their last trip back to Earth. He sniffed. Paused. Sniffed again. There was a distinct smell of burning permeating the console room of his beloved TARDIS. He sniffed once more. Definitely burning. If he wasn't mistaken, and he usually wasn't, it was burning… _wine_?

The Doctor leaped out of the chair, and sprinted down the TARDIS corridors to the kitchen, his Converse squeaking on the floor as he turned a corner slightly too sharply.

Reaching the kitchen, he was deafened slightly by the excessively loud Christmas music that Rose was playing on the small transistor radio she had brought on board.

"Rose!" he said, loud enough to be heard over Band Aid.

She span around, grinning, and wielding a vegetable peeler like a dangerous weapon.

"Yeah?"

"What on Gallifrey are you burning?"

"Oh bloody hell, the wine!" Rose skidded over to the oven. A pan of what used to be mulled wine sat on top. It had boiled over some time ago, leaving a somewhat less than appetizing sludge of wine and burnt sugar all over the pan and oven top.

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh, especially at the genuinely downcast look on Rose's face.

Well, he couldn't help it until she picked up a wooden spoon from the counter and threw it at him with some force. He dodged out of the way, but it stopped him laughing, at least.

"I was trying this recipe I learnt the other year – me and mum went to this well fancy restaurant for lunch near Christmas, it was a present from Mickey, and we had poached pears in mulled wine. Really boozy but just what you want at Christmas."

"Is it Christmas already?" the Doctor scrunched up his face. He was sure it had been Christmas recently.

"Well… no…" Rose conceded. "But at Christmas we were a bit too busy running around chasing aliens and stuff so I thought we could have a mini Christmas here. I mean, we're not technically anywhere, so it might as well be Christmas…"

The Doctor pulled her into a hug.

"It can be Christmas as often as we want it to be." He smiled softly. "Now, better find another bottle of mulled wine, I think you've decimated the last one."

This time, she did hit him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again lovelies! Here is the second instalment :) Hope you enjoyed the first little ficlet, and hope you enjoy this one too! I think this is super fluffy, but there's something about this time of year that makes me feel and warm and fluffy xD**

**So enjoy :)**

**L_M_D**

"The two turtle doves, they call this place!" the Doctor grinned, holding open the TARDIS door.

"Like the Christmas song?" Rose hummed, smiling as she brushed past the Doctor. He locked the door behind them, asking what she meant.

"Oh it's – never mind…" she trailed off, looking in awe at the view around them. The softest baby blue sand tickled her bare feet; in front of them a sea the colour of snow broke in gentle waves into surf. The apparently endless beach was deserted, despite the gentle heat radiating from the bright sunshine above them.

"It's huge!" she said, almost reverently. The Doctor stood beside her and pointed over the waves.

"Over there," he explained, "you can just about see the other beach. They're completely identical, down to the very last curve. They join, just down there…" he pointed again, this time just to the left of them. "On the very thinnest part. Then they widen around here, where we are now, and taper off slightly on the other side, where the water joins the sea proper. The locals say that from above, they look like two birds touching beaks. And the amazing thing is it's completely natural. One perfect and bizarre freak of nature."

_A bit like you_ Rose laughed inside her head.

"It's beautiful, thank you Doctor."

The rest of the day passed in bliss and laughter. They walked to the thinnest part of the beach, picking up shells and stones, and trying to skim them along the way. After laughing loudly as for the fourth time Rose's stone plonked into the water with a splash, the Doctor taught Rose how to skim a stone properly, standing behind her. It would have seemed like an ordinary thing to do, but the isolation of the beach made it _more_ in a way Rose couldn't quite put her finger on.

The Doctor felt it too, and coughed, before immediately launching into an explanation of the folklore around the twin beaches. He regretted it, since the predominant legend was one of two lovers, faithful until death, who had followed each other through time and space, and who, when one lay dying, had been transformed into the two beaches shaped like doves, by a witch doctor on the island so they would never be separated.

Both the Doctor and Rose blushed when he had finished the story, Rose turning round to find another stone to skim, her pale cheeks burning red.

Some hours later, the sun began to slowly set over the beach opposite them. The Doctor had removed his coat and Converse; sat next to him was Rose, her head leaning on his shoulder as she watched the sunset. Her feet had buried themselves in the soft, wet sand, and the white water lapped at her ankles. The Doctor lent back on his arms.

"Don't you wish you could just stay here forever. I mean, the running around like a maniac is great," Rose laughed, "but this is just heavenly."

"You mean you prefer relaxation to endless danger and life-threatening monsters?" the Doctor chuckled. After a long pause, uncomfortable with the silence, he began to explain why the water was snow-coloured, but Rose laughingly shushed him.

"Just enjoy the view, Doctor!"

"Right, yes, sorry…" He smiled. Sitting on a beach, the most beautiful girl in the universe resting beside him – _forget you ever thought that! _– watching a sunset. _How very ordinary_. _How very human_.

He looked down at Rose. _And how perfect_.


	3. Chapter 3

**This story took longer than I hoped, what with the new year and all - and happy new year to all of you :) **

**Enjoy, dear Reader,**

**L_M_D**

_On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree..._

"Paris!" the Doctor exclaimed, holding open the door for Rose. She'd dressed for the occasion in a rather pretty black dress, the Doctor had noticed, with a faux fur shawl draped around her shoulders.

The stepped out into the busy street. Rose grinned. Ever since she'd told the Doctor that she'd never been to Paris, he'd been promising to take her. And it was as gorgeous as she'd hoped.

The bright autumn day wasn't marred by the slightly cooling breeze. In fact, Rose was glad of it as they made their way through the packed streets, before settling down in a traditional café that the Doctor had declared as "perfect".

Rose had finished a ridiculously beautiful hot chocolate and left the Doctor "human-watching" as he called it, whilst she nipped to the Ladies. On her way back, she was surprised; she couldn't find the Doctor. She glanced where they had been sitting but there were four people on that table – three women and one man. She squinted to get a better look. It _was _the Doctor. The Doctor and three (remarkably attractive, she now noted) young women. A boil of rage and something like humiliation began rolling in her stomach.

She marched over there and demanded sarcastically to be introduced to the Doctor's _friends_.

"Oh!" he blushed bright red. "Rose this is Jeanette, Renée, and Adelaide." He pointed at each woman in turn. All three giggled.

"Is it now?" she asked pointedly. The Doctor didn't (or pretended not to) hear her. She flopped into the remaining seat grumpily.

Jeanette took a sip of her espresso, Renée took a drag on her cigarette and Adelaide, the worst of the three, Rose decided, was engaged in a low conversation with the Doctor. A conversation which involved far too many arm touches and giggles.

"Is this your wife?" she heard her ask him.

"No! not at all…"

The conversation got too low to hear, and Rose turned bright red, anger and embarrassment combining to create what she suspected was a highly unflattering shade. She cast a swift look at the other women. Renée, or Jeanette, or whichever, the only other blonde: platinum hair long enough to sit on and straightened to within an inch of its life. _Has to be from a bottle_ she thought unkindly. The other one, Jeanette she supposed, was watching Adelaide's conversation with the Doctor with nearly as much interest as Rose. Her copper hair curled elegantly at the neck. Adelaide, the one the Doctor just so happened to be leaning rather close to, pushing his glasses more firmly onto his nose, had short hair, jet black, flicked slightly to one side.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed, a flash of genius overcoming her. "Aren't you forgetting the _tickets_ to that _thing_ that we're going to?!"

The Doctor just gave her a befuddled look; one that said both _we don't have tickets_ and also _plus if we do, I have a time machine remember?_

So Rose began chattering away over the top of Adelaide and the others, referring to many inside jokes and laughing rather too hysterically. When this elicited little to no response, other than a pitying look from the French girls, she flopped back in her chair and sent several imaginary text messages, practising her moody look as she did so.

Rose, the Doctor realised, was acting in a slightly peculiar manner. He continued his conversation about Aristotle half-heartedly as he attempted to figure out what was wrong with his companion.

Rose watched the Doctor and his new _friends_ over the top of her mobile. All three of the women were leaning forward, hooked on his every word, ample cleavage showing. First Madam du Pompadour and now these three. He really did have a thing for French women.

She chewed on the edge of a nail. Then she noticed Adelaide's perfect French manicure, and stopped immediately.

After another fifteen minutes in which the Doctor flirted, giggled and was flirted with and giggled at, Rose got up, and walked away.

The Doctor immediately got up to follow, but was stopped by the pouting Adelaide tugging at the edge of his tan coat, insisting that he should not go, he should go with them and have another drink (_and plenty more_, it was implied). The Doctor brushed them off and ran after Rose, forgetting, in his haste, to say goodbye.

"Rose!" He shouted. "Rose, wait!" He blessed Gallifrey that this regeneration was young and fit and had relatively long legs. "Rose!" He caught up with her, grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to turn back to him.

She would not look at him, Rose told herself. Instead she stared hard at the concrete by his feet. If that concrete ever was alive, the Doctor reasoned, it was definitely dead now. He took a moment to be thankful that look wasn't directed at him. It would have stopped both his hearts.

He enfolded her into a hug, and despite herself, Rose felt tears forming.

"What's the matter, Rose?"

"N-nothin'…" she hiccoughed.

"Rose?" his voice was soft, and she couldn't help but look at him.

"Oh it's just those French… _hens_… throwing themselves at… I mean, ignoring me…." She went back to staring at the concrete.

"_Hens?_" He couldn't help but ask.

"Shu' up." She sniffled into his coat.

Both his hearts plummeted. She was crying. Or close enough. So he hugged her tighter, for once at a loss for words as it dawned on him what she'd meant. She was _jealous_. He couldn't help allowing himself a small smile of pride before addressing her.

"Anyway, enough about that. We've got all of Paris to see." He straightened up, and began walking off slowly. Rose stared at his back in disbelief. Bloody _alien_!

He turned back.

"Oh and Rose, I don't think I managed to tell you before we got waylaid. But you look… well…" he blushed slightly. He'd wanted this to sound much more romantic. "Beautiful." He settled for. "Just… beautiful."

She smiled at him faintly, walked up to him and took the hand he offered.

"Now," he continued. "All of Paris. Where do you want to start?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: the following contains a very fluffy ending. I feel like I'm made of candyfloss after writing this! (Sorry it's taken so long, assignments are looming). **

**Hopefully it won't take me so long next time! **

**Enjoy, Reader :) **

**L_M_D**

_On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree..._

The Doctor and Rose were relaxing in the TARDIS lounge, on a rare bit of down time from chasing aliens, running away from aliens, and generally interacting with anyone except the two of them.

A comfortable silence had fallen some minutes ago. The Doctor perused a book they'd picked up in an alien mall some weeks ago; Rose had closed her eyes and was starting to nod off.

No screaming. No running. No dying. Rose had forgotten what it was to relax. Just a warm room, a comfortable chair, the distant sound of birdsong….

_Hang on_. She thought. _What?_

She strained to listen. Definitely birdsong. She nudged the Doctor with a foot.

"What?" he asked, slightly disgruntled.

"I can hear birds. Like tweeting and stuff!"

"I think you're dreaming!" he laughed.

He stopped short suddenly as from close by came the unmistakeable twittering.

"Rose? I think I can hear _birds_ on the TARDIS!"

"You don't say?" Rose rolled her eyes sarcastically, and stood up. "Come on then, we better go and have a look."

They crept quietly down the halls. It would have been silent except for Rose's occasional interjections about how she was finally enjoying a day of _peace and_ _flipping quiet_…

The Doctor hushed her as he stopped outside a seemingly arbitrary door. He opened it to reveal… a broom cupboard.

"Really, Doctor?" Rose raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Just hold on a second, I think I've got something…." The rest of the sentence was muffled as the Doctor stuck his head in the cupboard and rummaged around.

He pulled himself upright, a triumphant grin on his face.

"There!" he said proudly. In his hand was a net, the kind you might see a cartoon character catching butterflies with. Rose suspected it was actually taller than her.

"Come on!" The Doctor took Rose by the hand, dragging her along the corridor.

They crept along silently as the twittering grew louder. Turning into a short corridor, they saw it… a small starling was hopping and pecking hopefully along the floor. The Doctor turned to Rose and raised a finger to his lips, before turning back and, taking exaggeratedly quiet steps, moved towards the bird.

Unfortunately, the tiny bird outwitted the 900 year old Time Lord, and flew away, cueing much laughter from Rose as the Doctor ran after it, waving the net wildly and shouting.

Three hours later and three starlings had successfully been caught and released into the Cardiff countryside. The Doctor had found Rose an extra net, and the pair had split up, each searching for the elusive fourth bird. They could hear its call, but every time they thought they'd found it, the tweeting reappeared from another part of the TARDIS. The Doctor was beginning to think his old machine was playing tricks on them…

Rose crept silently along one corridor, sides still aching from laughing with the Doctor as they caught the third bird. The tweeting was definitely getting louder; she couldn't wait to see the Doctor's face when she showed him the final starling, nestled in the little carry box she was holding. It would serve him right for not believing her at first. Her back to the TARDIS wall, she peered slowly around a corner. _There it was_! Contentedly hopping along the floor, just like the first one, occasionally letting out a happy note. She gathered herself together, prepared her net, and flung herself around the corner, desperate to catch it so she could go back to nodding off on the couch.

She collided with the Doctor at full speed, and both of them crashed to the TARDIS floor, legs, arms and nets tangled.

"Oooft! Bloody hell, Doctor, what are _you _doing here?!"

"Trying to catch that starling, what are _you_ doing here?!"

"Same… Where is it?"

From their slightly uncomfortable vantage point they tried, unsuccessfully, to locate the bird.

"Bloomin' gone now that you great lumps gone and scared it off!"

"I've scared it off? You were the one waving your net about like I don't know what!" The Doctor turned his face to look at Rose, before realising he was half laying on top of her and quickly moving to extricate himself from the tangle, muttering about how he must be too heavy.

She blushed and pushed herself slightly more upright.

The Doctor offered her a hand, and pulled her upright. They stood awkwardly blushing for a moment.

"Thanks…" Rose said, eventually.

"It's okay…" he went to ruffle a hand through his already dishevelled hair. It was only then that he realised he was still holding on to Rose.

To the surprise of both of them, he didn't let go.

"Let's umm.. let's go get a cuppa, shall we?" he grinned slightly.

"Yeah," Rose nodded. "Tea sounds good… But what about the bird?"

"Oh, he'll be okay. I'm sure we'll find him later."

Rose nodded again, and they walked towards the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

**I appear to have been invaded by a fluff-monster. This one is even more fluffy than the last. But I love it, so there xD thanks to all who are following etc., I hope you're enjoying them as much as I'm enjoying writing them! (It comes as a welcome change from Victorian literature, anyway :P ) I'm very aware that it's fast becoming very much not Christmas, but it's my favourite time of year, so I'm rather enjoying extending it a little!**

**So here we are, number 5 :) **

**As always, Reader, enjoy...**

**L_M_D**

_On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree..._

The cries of hawkers filled the warm, still air. Rose and the Doctor strolled arm in arm, occasionally stopping and browsing a particularly interesting stall. No running, the Doctor had promised her. Absolutely no running. A day shopping in some unpronounceable planet's famous market, followed by watching the annual carnival on the beach. That seemed pretty much like heaven.

And so far, so good. Rose had brought several alien objects as gifts for her mother, including one slightly odd looking object that was meant to give you the most blissful massage of your life. The Doctor had purchased an old book, and a beautiful shawl made out of the most exquisite blue silk-like material, which he had draped around Rose's shoulders with a smile.

They wandered to the next stall, which lots of people had crowded around. Once a space opened up, Rose could see why.

Jewellery made of the most beautiful metal Rose had ever seen was spread on a red cloth. The metal shone silver and blue, purple tints glinting in the direct sunlight. She couldn't help let out a sigh of longing as her eye was drawn to a bracelet made of five interlinking rings.

The Doctor saw that look in her eye, and laughed.

"What?" she grinned. "It is beautiful…"

"You and your jewellery. Fine!" he smiled, waving over the somewhat stressed looking attendant. "We'll take this one!"

The man smiled broadly and congratulated them on an excellent choice. He carefully wrapped up the bracelet in soft paper, and gave it to the Doctor, smiling in a disconcertingly knowing way.

The Doctor brushed off the man's oddness and tucked it into an inside pocket of his jacket as Rose squealed and hugged him as a thank you.

A few hours later and the pair were happily ensconced between a seemingly endless procession of happy couples, seated on the wall overlooking the beach. The carnival was due to start any minute. Rose looked about her happily, munching on what passed for a chip on this planet. Nothing like the salt and vinegar infused potato goodness she was used to on Earth – in fact, it had a faintly bubblegum flavour – but it was yummy nonetheless. As yet another couple walked in front of them, trying to find a space on the wall, Rose noticed the presence of a familiar looking bracelet on the woman's arm. It wasn't quite the same, she realised, but the interlocking rings were unmistakeable.

"Hey, Doctor," she nudged her companion. "Look, loads of people have got those bracelet things on!"

"Maybe you should wear yours?" he suggested, wondering if it was a local custom to wear them to the carnival. He pulled the delicately wrapped package from his coat pocket and handed it to her to undo. She unwrapped it carefully, not wanting to rip any of the beautiful paper. She smiled, finally releasing it and sliding it onto her arm. Flinging her arms around him she thanked him profusely once more, grinning at the sight of it over his shoulder. In the dying light, it's purplish tints glimmered brightly.

The Doctor was somewhat abruptly cut short from his enjoyment of Rose's hug by an almighty pat on the back from the nearest gentleman. This was, he gathered from the cheerful grin on the man's face, and the continuation of these pats from various other members of the crowd, meant to be congratulatory. Rose, too had been variously assaulted by female members of the crowd, most if not all of whom were also wearing variations on the five-ringed bracelet.

It was only sometime later, when they had been borne aloft by the crowd, along with several other couples who appeared to be sitting back and enjoying the ride, that the Doctor remembered a curious bit of knowledge about the planet that had somehow failed to register when he suggested it to Rose. It occurred to him, as he watched with something akin to awe the brightly and beautifully decorated parade that he appeared to now be a part of, that the carnival was a celebration of loyalty, of friendship, and, most importantly, of true love.

The inhabitants of the planet he'd quite innocently suggested they shopped on, believed in a five-point reincarnation process, he explained to Rose much later, as they returned to the TARDIS. You are given, the religion goes, five lives to find your soulmate, or _soul of my heart_ as their word translates to. To find your soulmate indicates a reward, as in the usual phraseology of a Promised Land or Heaven. To fail to do indicates a purgatory of wandering the planet, in stasis between life and death, bewailing your loss. Of course, just a children's ghost story, the Doctor rationalised.

Nowadays it had taken a more literal meaning, as things often do. The five rings were the five lives. To give or to receive a bracelet indicated your declaration of having found your soulmate. It was, essentially, he explained, an engagement ring.

Rose did have to wonder, later that night, as she dressed for bed, carefully laying her bracelet on the bedside table, quite _why _the Doctor had decided to explain this, rather cheerfully, only after the culmination of the carnival. After a good couple of hours of processions, dancing, music and general revelry, the couples watching from raised chairs, they were presented with wreaths of flowers, which they placed on their heads. The Doctor and Rose had followed suit, trying desperately not to annoy any of the planet's inhabitants (a knack which they hadn't quite mastered so far), the crowd dispersed, and the couples all took their cues to whisper private happiness to one another.

The sun had almost set, it taking an uncommonly long time on this particular day of the year, and in the last glow of the dying light, the Doctor had pulled her close to him, lifted her chin up with one hand, and given her a look of such intensity that Rose had blushed. Noticing the activities of the other couples, Rose's breathing rapidly getting out of control as he just _wouldn't stop looking at her like that_... As he brushed her lips with his, Rose felt a rush of emotion, so unexpectedly constricting around her heart that she forgot, for a moment, how to breathe. The kiss was soft and felt so full of promise, that even in bed that night the echo of it haunted her lips.

_He was just fitting in_, she reasoned. _We both were. Trying not to get in trouble with everyone, like we normally do_.

In the console room, the Doctor kicked off his Converse, shrugged off his jacket and sat down, staring hard at the console for a moment before running a hand through his hair. As he brought it down, he paused for a moment at his lips, touching them softly. The ghost of her presence there still tingled.

_Get a hold of yourself, man_. He told himself. _It's just a bracelet. And besides…If she felt the same… She knows. She must know_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay okay, this one has taken me absolutely ages! I can only apologize, I was completely stuck on what to do for this one! The following is the best idea I could come up with. There's only minor fluff in this one too ;) **

**I'm kind of hoping they're not too same-y. This is a bit of a challenge for me as I usually write multi-chap fics with more of a defined plot and arc; so if these are too similar I apologize. I'm trying to improve my one-shot-ing xD**

**Thank you to all those who are following this little series of drabbles xD - and especially Sebastian Max for your lovely review :D :D **

**As always, dear Reader, enoy**

**For now,**

**L_M_D**

_On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree..._

"Doctorrrrr…" Rose sing-songed as she shuffled into the TARDIS console room, where the object of her pleading sat tinkering with some buttons.

"What do you want?" he grinned at her.

"I don't want anything!" she protested, reaching him and pulling him into a cuddle.

"Yes, you do…"

"Well, it was _just _a thought, but I was dreaming last night about when I was younger, and I remembered how much I used to _love _feeding the ducks…."

"Feeding ducks? Why on Gallifrey would you want to feed ducks?" he asked, puzzled.

"Because they're cute! _Especially _when they're tiny lickle ducklings! They're adorable!" She giggled.

"No, no they're not!" he insisted. "Ducks bite!"

"How can they bite they don't even have a proper mouth!"

He gave her a mysterious look, as if to say "you don't know anything, Rose Tyler."

But she pushed out her bottom lip and stroked a hand down his arm as she begged,

He relented, and ten minutes later, Rose had dug out some bread from the kitchen, and they were walking, hand in hand, through a country meadow.

A small river ran by one end, and the Doctor seated himself on an appropriately placed bench as Rose teetered on the edge of the bank, giggling to herself and insisting that he should join her as she threw small handfuls of crumbs to the ever-increasing crowd of ducks.

The Doctor closed his eyes and basked for a moment in the warm sunshine. He was awoken from his reverie by Rose suddenly whispering, very close to his ear:

"Come with me, I have to show you something."

Unable to resist, he took her proffered hand and she led him a small way down the riverbank. Amongst a clump of reeds a nest of twigs and grass held six tiny, baby geese. Their fluffy yellow down was turning brown on their backs. Rose was babbling on at the cuteness of their small friends, and even the Doctor had to admit that they were quite sweet.

The goslings grew braver and one plucky young chick waddled over to Rose and made a show of pecking at the ground near her where she crouched.

"Well aren't you just the cutest thing?!" she exclaimed softly, reaching into the bread bag and scattering some crumbs near the baby. Encouraged by this show of generosity, another brave young goose toddled over, hunting over the same ground as its sibling, engaging in a struggle for the remaining crumb or two.

Entranced with her new favourite creatures Rose soon gave away all of the bread, and was rewarded by a veritable crowd of goslings. The first, bravest chick had even condescended to allow her to pick him up, and was sat, quite comfortably, on her hand, which she kept close to the ground for safety.

Rose looked at the Doctor, her bright eyes shining with delight, and he allowed himself to think that maybe feeding the ducks wasn't such a bad idea after all, if it made his Rose smile so widely.

He was once again interrupted from his reverie, not, this time, by a whisper by his soft blonde-haired companion, but by a very loud _HONK!_

The chick in Rose's hand leapt off, and all six tiny geese hurried back to the safety of their nests. Rose and the Doctor stood and turned, only to find themselves confronted with a very angry looking mummy Goose.

_HONK!_ It squawked at them again.

"Hey it's cool," Rose said in an attempt to placate the animal. "We were just giving the babies some food."

She put out her arms in a "we're backing off" gesture.

The goose craned her neck forward and bit Rose on the hand.

"Ow!" she cried, looking livid.

The Doctor took her by the other hand and gently led her away, fearful that Rose would attempt to get into a slanging match with the goose.

By the time they reached the TARDIS, Rose was clutching her hand to her chest in a look of utter outrage. He sat her down on a seat in the console room and crouched in front of her.

"Let me see?"

She unfolded her hand. He tenderly held her fingers as he inspected the bruise just forming.

"You'll live." He laughed. "But I did tell you that ducks bite."

"That was a goose," she said indignantly.

The Doctor just laughed at her.

"It really hurt!" Rose insisted. This, however, made him laugh more, so she pouted until he stopped (which took an uncharitably long time, she thought).

Once he'd finished laughing at her outrage, he bent over her hand once more. Without thinking (or so he told himself later), he lightly kissed the developing bruise.

A breath caught in Rose's throat (for which she mentally kicked herself later), which snapped him back into reality.

Babbling on nineteen to the dozen, he began to press as many buttons on the console as looked appealing.

As he set the coordinates for their next stop, Rose remained seated as she had been, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter has taken me FAR too long to upload, and I have no excuse! Only that I had no idea where to start with this fic, and then life took over and I had to put it on the back burner for a while. Apologies! Thank you to all who are reading, following, favouriting, reviewing - it means so much that people are enjoying what I'm writing :') **

**I'm not overly happy with this one - It's probably the least related to the title than any of these, but I needed to get something written. It's cutesy and a little sad, but I promise things will get better! xD**

**I have one other thing that must be said: GNU Terry Pratchett**

**For now, dearest Reader, enjoy.**

**L_M_D**

The slightly wonky cobbled streets of the quaint countryside town steamed in the un-British like summer heat. The Doctor and Rose wound their way through the families, and the lovers taking lazy Sunday afternoon walks.

Of course, taking a lazy Sunday afternoon walk was exactly what the Doctor and Rose were doing, but they would never admit the similarities between themselves and the swooning couples around them.

But with her arm threaded through his, her cheek occasionally resting against his shoulder as they window shopped, Rose knew, at least subconsciously, that the warm glow around her was only partly caused by the unseasonable sunshine.

With his long tan jacket thankfully back in the TARDIS, and his suit jacket undone, the Doctor smiled broadly. Another day with his Rose, the sun catching the highlights in her hair, tanning the pale skin on her shoulders, revealed by her tightly-fitting tank top….

He coughed.

Not that he'd noticed, of course.

Their walk took them along the bank of a winding river, up to a small bridge where they were to cross, going away from the hustle and bustle of the market town, further into the countryside. The bridge was iron, possibly Victorian, the Doctor found himself telling Rose as they paused to watch the river languidly flowing underneath them.

She listened absent-mindedly, her attention caught on the family of swans making their way carefully downstream. Mother and father, she surmised from their leading but caring attitude, were followed by five signets. Recalling a similar adventure with a group of geese, she laughingly pointed them out to the Doctor, cutting him off mid-ramble about Victorian engineering by suggesting she was glad they were far enough away from the pesky creatures this time.

He laughed with her, asking her teasingly if she was sure she wasn't scared.

She lightly punched his arm.

"Shut up!" she giggled, blushing in spite of herself.

He pulled her in for a 'protective' hug. At least that's what he called it. And when it went on far too long, he didn't move away, but rested his chin on the top of his head. She nuzzled in. A welcome breeze whispered its way around them, lifting the ends of Rose's hair just slightly.

"Doctor?" she murmured.

"Yes?"

"Can we jus' stay like this?" she smiled, thankful he couldn't see the blush that had once again crept up her cheeks. His arms tightened around her slightly.

"Yes."

And they did. Watching the river make its slow course under the bridge, carrying with it the swan family, that even Rose admitted were really very sweet. After fifteen minutes or so, they shifted slightly, moving just marginally away from each other.

Rose glanced up at the Doctor just slightly, out of habit she forced herself to believe later on. She caught his eye and glanced down immediately. This, however, made her stare either at his lips or, if she looked down far enough, his chest and their bodies standing almost touching together. So she flitted between lips and eyes, not sure where would make it less awkward. It took her a moment to realise that his arms had tightened around her once again. The next time her eyes met his, she found herself unable to look away. The intensity in his had caused her to take a sharp breath in. Agonizingly slowly, or at least it felt agonizingly slowly, the Doctor brushed his lips with hers. Rose let out an involuntary sigh.

The next thing she knew, the protective circle of his arms had been removed, and they were marching along the bridge towards the centre of the country town. The Doctor had continue his previous ramble about Victorian architecture, and was in the middle of pointing out some _very _interesting examples of the romantic Gothic design, when Rose felt hot tears pricking the backs of her eyes. She sniffed, hoping it was quieter than she thought, and blocked out the Doctor's lecture.

They were back at the TARDIS before she knew it, and she immediately excused herself to the kitchen, citing a desperate need for a cup of tea.

The Doctor remained in the console room, and buttoned up his suit jacket once more. He stared, for a moment, down the corridor containing the retreating figure of his Rose, before turning swiftly to the console and entering some coordinates, his face tense and frowning.


	8. Chapter 8

**Once again, this has taken forever. Apologies, apologies. Again this is only slightly related to the 'eight maids' of the poem, but the idea was too cute to get out of my head!**

**Enjoy, Reader.**

**L_M_D**

_On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings!, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree._

Pulling on her bright blue wellington boots as the Doctor pushed open the TARDIS door, Rose grinned. It quickly turned into a grimace as the unmistakable scent of true country air wafted through the open door. Manure.

She wasn't sure how the Doctor and herself had come to make the bet, only that it had involved several glasses of a slightly fizzy, mint flavoured drink in a bar two nights ago. And now, it seemed, the bet was actually going to come to fruition.

They were going to milk a cow.

_"__Rose, I am over nine centuries old. Of course I can milk a cow." _

_"__Yeah, but, have you - " she paused to take a sip of the surprisingly potent alcoholic mixture. "Have you ever actually seen a cow? Like, up close?"_

_"__That, Rose, is entirely… errelephant – irrelevant," he giggled. "Have _you_ ever seen a cow up close?" He prodded her on the arm, rather harder than he intended to._

_"__No, but at least cows are from my planet. That's closer than you!" _

The evening had ended with a very loud, impromptu singalong to Wicked, all the way back to the TARDIS, accompanied by two of the waiters, who both seemed to think they were engaged to the Doctor.

And now the Doctor and Rose stood outside the TARDIS, squinting slightly in the sunlight. A cow mooed loudly from their right hand side. Feeling a warm breeze on her arm, Rose glanced that way, and jumped when she saw the large Friesian, it's nose practically on her elbow. A slight scream of surprise escaped her lips, and the Doctor laughed.

"If you're too scared of the cow, Rose, we can give in now."

"What, and let you win? I don' think so, mister!" she poked him in the chest before grabbing his hand and heading determinedly for the farmhouse at the bottom of the field.

The farmer had looked slightly befuddled at their request to milk a cow, but was very obliging after the Doctor had apparently shown them credentials suggesting they were affiliated to a local veterinary college. And now, after wading through what felt like six inches of flipping mud, and Rose was beginning to question if this was a good idea. The Doctor had apparently indicated they wanted to milk 'the old-fashioned way' so the farmer had bypassed the rather terrifying looking machinery, and had plonked a stool down in the middle of a barn, and was now calmly leading in what looked like the biggest cow Rose had ever seen.

She did have to laugh when the farmer offered the seat to the Doctor first, asking if he wanted to 'give the young lady a demonstration?'

"Yeah!" Rose had replied. "I really don't want to make any mistakes, Doctor…" She smiled sweetly at the evil glare he had flashed her way.

_Right_ he thought to himself as he sat down. _Just a cow. You're over 900 years old, you can definitely milk a cow…_

Thirteen minutes later and Rose and the Doctor ran, hands clasped, completely covered in mud, towards the TARDIS.

They collapsed in the console room, sides aching from the run, and from their hysterical laughter.

"_That_ was… literally… the funniest thing… I have ever… seen!" Rose panted through her giggles.

The Doctor looked at her, opened his mouth to speak, and burst into laughter again.

"Wha'?" Rose said, trying to sound indignant, but laughing too hard.

"You're covered in mud!"

"So are you!" she pointed.

"Ah!" he replied, striding over to her to push a mud streaked section of hair away from her face. "But on Gallifrey, being covered in mud is a sign of heroism."

"Bull!" she laughed, as the Doctor broke down, unable to keep his straight face. "And you were hardly heroic when that cow kicked you in the stomach! You waved a screwdriver at it until it bit you!"

The two fell about laughing once more.

"And the farmers face when you tried to milk it!" she chuckled. "He looked like you'd suddenly grown two heads!

"How was I supposed to know you didn't just grab on and hope?!"

"Says Mr. 'I'm over 900 years old, of course I can milk a cow!'" she laughed. The Doctor just shook his head in shame.

"Anyway!" Rose continued, after their giggles had subsided. "I ought to go get some of this mud off! And you ought to do the same!"

"Well, Rose, if you're offering to share your shower with me…" he winked and raised one eyebrow.

She immediately went bright red.

"Shu' up!" she mumbled. "You know wha' I meant!"

He laughed more at her discomfort before once more brushing away that stray piece of hair.

"I know." He kissed her forehead lightly, his hand still on her neck from his apparently innocent action, desperately ignoring the butterflies in his stomach and the temptation to let his lips touch hers. She was struggling with the same feeling as she raised her head to look him in the eyes, a light blush still on her cheeks. She smiled slightly, and he couldn't resist it any more. So quickly she later thought she must have dreamt it, he ducked his head and lightly kissed her lips.

He broke away immediately and began talking about the next adventure, whilst she struggled to regain balance. At a lull in his excitable chatter, she motioned towards the bathroom.

"Yeah, let me just get this mud off, yeah?"

He nodded, and waited until she had almost left the console room before calling after her. When she turned, she thought she saw him blush as he stared hard at the console but said

"I think you look rather… charming. Covered in mud."

He coughed and began entering coordinates. She let out a small, nervous giggle, and walked away to the bathroom, a slight but unmistakeable spring in her step.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello hello hello lovely readers. I have once again been spectacularly lax, but I've got this lovely little ficlet for you so I hope you'll forgive me :D This one ****_is _****going to be a two-parter with the 10th (and next) ficlet, so don't despair if the ending doesn't quite seem to work. It will. Hopefully :D **

**For now, enjoy, dearest Reader.**

**L_M_D**

"I've _always _wanted to go to a masked ball!" Rose announced excitedly, as she waltzed her way into the console room.

The Doctor said nothing. His respiratory system had appeared to stop working as he gazed at his companion.

A shimmering full length ball gown in the deepest of purples swished delightfully as she brushed aside a strand of hair come loose from her elaborate up-do. As the silky fabric caught the light, the deep amethyst gave way to hints of blue and gold and black. She was so close to him now. She had asked him something, but he had entirely forgotten what. He glanced down. Her hand, outstretched slightly, gently held the purple ribbon of her mask.

That was it.

Silently, he took it from her and placed it over her head, tying a delicate bow to hold it in place. As she turned around, she smiled at him from underneath the beautifully painted butterfly that now obscured most of her face.

"Put yours on them!" she laughed, offering to help him with the ribbon tie.

Turning around and bending slightly at the knees so she could reach the back of his head, the Doctor felt severely underdressed. He, too, was in black tie, but in comparison to her brilliance he felt remarkably plain. Not that he minded. Being a foil to her, he felt, was the best role he could play.

He turned back around once she had tightened the bow. His mask, resembling a silver grey wolf, framing his eyes, Rose thought they had never looked more beautiful. The wisdom of the universe reflected inside them.

He offered her his arm, in true courtly style, and they exited the TARDIS.

The ballroom was a swirl of music and colour. A band played on unseen, on a balcony above the crowd.

To Rose, it seemed like the whole room was dancing. Swirls of colour and light and music intermingled with the scent of the white roses and lilies which formed the decoration.

The fast song ended and a cheer rose from the crowd as people applauded the almost invisible musicians. Before the next song began, the Doctor coughed, holding out his arm.

"Lady Rose, would you care for a dance?" he grinned at her from underneath the wolf, and she delicately laid her hand on his arm, returning his smile.

They danced for hours, mostly together, occasionally with others. Those they danced with simply smiled, knowing how desperate the two were to dance together once again.

"Young love!" An older woman sighed to her companion. "Remember when we were like that, once?"

"With the officers!" her friend murmured in return, glad her husband was no longer in earshot.

"I hear he's a doctor…" a third smiled, before returning her peacock mask to her face, and going in search of her own husband to force him to dance the next set.

Rose wasn't entirely sure when she had learnt to dance like this, or if it was something strange effect from the TARDIS that meant the steps came so easily to her. But as the Doctor, or one of her other partners, led her around the floor, she felt herself fall quite naturally into the steps; in fact, she felt like she was walking on clouds.

It must have been getting quite late; the older generation had left, ushering the much younger girls away to bed. But the Doctor and Rose, and a few other young couples, kept dancing, the tired band playing on. The hosts themselves, a newlywed couple who the Doctor and Rose had both danced with, were more than happy to keep the wine and champagne flowing, dancing alongside Rose and the Doctor as the clock hit two-thirty. More and more couples and families departed until there were only a handful of them left. At the end of a particularly rousing number, Rose motioned the Doctor off the floor to grab a couple of champagne flutes from a nearby waiter. Passing one to the Doctor, she leant against one of the pillars surrounding the ballroom, pressing a free hand against her chest, out of breath from laughter. They grinned at each other in breathless happiness for a moment, before the host and hostess headed over to check on them.

They made small talk throughout the next dance, happy to watch the final seven couples left on the floor. Their host had earlier talked the Doctor into allowing them to give him and 'his young lady' a room for the evening, and a combination of the champagne and dancing was making both him and Rose glad; as the tiredness began to overtake them, navigating the complex corridors of the TARDIS was not something to look forward to.

"The room we spoke of earlier is ready, should you and Lady Rose wish to retire."

"Thank you… Wait… room? Singular?!" the Doctor's eyes went wide for a moment.

"We can make up another room, if you'd prefer…?" The host asked, quite bemused.

The Doctor stole a sideways glance at Rose, her head thrown back in laughter at something the hostess had said.

Both his hearts were in his throat. He had to make his decision, and quickly.

"No. No, that will be fine."

Rose and the hostess watched the other dancers.

"Only nine couples left!" The hostess laughed. "Thank goodness it's not thirteen! We'll be the last men standing at this rate!"

As taking their cue, the musicians finished the foxtrot, and the other seven couples drifted over to take their goodbyes, all of them saying how wonderful it was to make the acquaintance of the Doctor and his young blonde companion. As the rest of the masked revellers departed, cats and dogs and swans falling into laps as ribbons were untied, discarded, the band struck up a slow waltz.

The host politely turned to Rose, offering his arm, but the Doctor interrupted with a cough. Rose looked at him, and then turned back to the host.

"Sorry, but I think I better save this one for the Doctor," she smiled as she took her Time Lord's arm, letting him lead her onto the dance floor once more. The host gladly took his new wife on his arm, and the two couples began their slow progress around the room.

Rose leaned towards him.

"Thank you." She mumbled slightly. "This is perfect."

"Quite right, too." The Doctor smiled.

They twirled in silence for another few moments before Rose giggled.

"What?" the Doctor asked, looking at her curiously.

"It's jus' like, this is all happening. I mean, we're actually here, dancing, at a masquerade ball, god knows where and god knows when, and tomorrow we coul' be runnin' away from aliens with laser guns or anything. It's amazing, you know?" she giggled again. "I mean, I work in a shop. Worked. In a shop, I mean."

The Doctor paused as they made their way around the corner.

"I suppose it is… in a way. I've got so used to it. But you – you're just brilliant. You're always brilliant. And you've stayed with me despite all the running and the monsters and the _very _high risk situations we get into."

She laughed again, and as the waltz ended leaned forward and kissed his jaw, since it was the only part of his cheek not taken up by his mask. And although the wolf hid it and she couldn't see him, the Doctor blushed.

The host and hostess said their goodbyes in the ballroom, as the Doctor and Rose realised just how tired they were. As they left, Rose leaned on the Doctor's arm for support, glancing back to see the newly-wed couple dancing one last waltz, alone, to the still-sweet sounds of the hidden band. Walking up the staircase to their room, both Rose and the Doctor giggled like children. Several glasses of champagne had affected them both; the Doctor was regretting the ginger beer he had imbibed earlier in the evening since the champagne now seemed to be swirling around his brain. Or that could have just been Rose, he wasn't sure.

Entering the room, Rose immediately undid the ribbon bow at the back of her head, relieved to get the weight of the butterfly off her face. She sighed and placed it on the dresser.

"I said we didn't mind one room…" the Doctor began, taking the grey wolf off his face. "I'll take the chaise lounge."

"Ahh don't be daft!" Rose laughed as she opened the bottle of wine that had been conveniently placed in a cooler by the bed. "Come sit down an' have a glass with me!"

The Doctor smiled and removed his black bowtie. He perched on the edge of the bed, and Rose handed him a glass filled with dark red wine. She raised her glass in a toast.

"To dancing!" she declared happily, taking a sip as he echoed her. "Go on, Doctor, you've got to porpos – propo – propose one now!" she grinned at finally getting the words right.

"To adventures!" he laughed, the alcohol fuzzing even his brain. Vaguely he wondered how Rose was still standing. Humans. He'd never understand them. Rose chinked his glass and took another sip, before shuffling down to sit closer to him.

"To red wine." She laughed, chinking his glass slightly harder. Before he could propose his own toast, she'd continued, "to the Doctor!"

"I can't drink to myself!" he laughed at her as she took another sip.

"Well, then, you drink to me!"

"To Rose…" he said, softer than before, an involuntary shiver running through him.

Rose paused for a moment, the look on the Doctor's face stopping her before she proposed something else.

"To us." It was almost a whisper. Rose didn't reply, just lightly touched her glass to his and took a sip.


	10. Chapter 10

**Another long wait, so I'm sorry! Life has taken a turn for the busier I'm afraid (that and I'm just forgetful)! This chapter continues from where the 9th day of Christmas left off - so you may want to go back and read the last paragraph, just to remind yourselves :P ! Again, thank you to all you lovely followers and favouriters and reviewers - you guys get extra cookies! **

**I hope you enjoy, my dear reader.**

**L_M_D**

The air had left the room a long time ago. Silence had fallen for a moment which stretched to eternity. Both the Doctor and Rose, almost simultaneously, cursed themselves inwardly for their nerves and embarrassment.

The Doctor was the one to break the eye contact. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take drowning in her eyes and willing her to do that one thing which he couldn't, in case he messed everything up, willing her to kiss him. He looked down, took another sip from his wineglass.

The tension deflated quickly, along with the sickly feeling in Rose's stomach. She also took a sip – well, a mouthful – covering her disappointment in that most human of traditions – intoxication.

The Doctor unknowingly followed suit.

Thirty minutes later, and both were well and truly, as Rose put it, smashed.

"I'm not drink – I mean drunk!" The Doctor insisted.

"Yea' you're!" She slurred in response. "You're smash – smashed!"

Both fell about laughing for no real reason. A breathless moment later, they had collapsed onto the bed, side by side.

"Where – and when – are we, anyway?" She asked. "Forgo' to ask earlier!"

"No idea! Somewhere in England, and I think it's just before Christmas, but actually – I don't have a clue!" He turned to her and grinned. She put on an exaggerated shocked face.

"Somethin' that THE DOCTOR, last of the _TIME LORDS_, doesn't know?! We mus' be in some parallel universe somethin'!"

The Doctor joined in her laughter.

"There are a few things I don't know!"

"Is it really Christmas again though? It doesn't seem ten minutes since we made poached pears!"

"That's because we had our extra TARDIS Christmas about three weeks ago… And I'm sure it is – there was a Christmas tree downstairs!"

"Was there?" Rose laughed incredulously. "Never noticed! Bloody love Christmas though!"

"Well," the Doctor grinned, scrambling to a semblance of a sitting position, grabbing the wine bottle which had been quietly and discreetly replaced several times by careful servants, and refilling his glass. "To Christmas!" He laughed. "Christmas is meant to be twelve days anyway!"

Rose sat up alongside him, nudging him to refill her glass. "And we've been dancing so that makes it day number nine."

He looked puzzled as he complied, pouring her a large glass of wine.

"You know, the song? _On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me… nine ladies dancing…_?"

"Crazy human traditions!" He smiled. "Well, it's now very early on the morning of the tenth day, so what does your true love give you then?"

"Ten lords a-leaping!"

"Leaping?" He scrunched his face in confusion. "Like leapfrog."

Rose looked puzzled.

"I guess… I've never really thought about it before…"

"Well then, we'll have to play leapfrog!" He stood up dramatically, the effect undercut slightly by his swaying.

Rose burst into further giggles, placing her glass down by the side of her bed and grabbing one side as a stitch began to form.

"I can't play leapfrog, I'm in a dress!"

"Who said you were jumping?" The Doctor asked playfully, pulling her up and off the bed. "I'm the Time Lord, so I will be doing the leaping, thank you!"

"Fine!"

She stood in front of the Doctor, and hitched her dress so she could squat, in a most unladylike fashion, to allow the Doctor to leapfrog over her.

"Right, I hope you're ready for this athletic brilliance Rose!"

"Jus' hurry up!" she laughed. "I'm getting leg cramp here!" When the Doctor didn't take his run up, Rose glanced behind her to see him tying a tie around his head, Rambo-style. Rose burst into further giggles.

"The blinking hell are you doin'?!"

"I told you, Rose, athletic brilliance, coming right up!"

The next thing Rose knew, she was on the floor, arms folded painfully underneath her, the Doctor lying heavily on top of her.

_On top of her._

All the blood rushed to her face at once.

"Oooft!" the Doctor breathed, a rather delayed reaction to their collision. "Sorry! Sorry! It's the alcohol, messed up my brain's calculations… or something…"

"Doctor!" Rose wheezed. "I don't mean to sound rude, but can you get off? I'm struggling to breathe her!"

"Ah. Yes, of course. Sorry.." he rolled sideways, allowing Rose to gasp in some air. She glanced over at him. He still lay on his side, looking at her, grinning.

"_Athletic brilliance_?" she scoffed, smiling at him. She didn't mind really. Both of them burst out laughing, the champagne making the situation even funnier than it was.

During a lull in the hysterics, the Doctor asked if she was hurt. She shook her head, but motioned with her hand.

"Suppose my wrist hurts a little. Think I landed funny, but the alcohol gave me a bit of padding."

Still laughing, the Doctor took her hand, quickly but gently.

"Well, I am a Doctor!" he announced. "I'll have a look at it." He proceeded with his highly stylised inspection of her hand, lots of _hmmmm_-ing and shaking his head. "I'm afraid Rose, it's terribly serious!" The Doctor failed miserably at keeping a straight face. "It's – bruised!" He announced dramatically.

"Oh no! Bruised! Doctor, whatever will I do?!" Rose reacted to his overacting with some melodrama of her own, pretending to swoon – difficult, since she was already on the floor.

"There's only one thing for it I'm afraid! The only cure for a bruised wrist – a kiss better!"

Keeping up his overacting, he now turned Casanova on her, raising her wrist to his mouth deliberately slowly. And although Rose knew he was acting, she couldn't quite convey that to the drunk butterflies in her stomach, as his lips gently, teasingly (_he's doing this on purpose_ she thought) brushed her wrist. The Doctor seemed a lot closer than she remembered, and as much as she tried to remind herself that he was drunk, that _she _was drunk, that the several bottles of wine that had been discreetly taken away and replaced were controlling the entire exchange, she couldn't help feeling that the butterflies were terribly, wonderfully real.

The Doctor felt that Rose's body had suddenly become a lot closer than he remembered it being. Or perhaps it was just the heat from his body radiating out, filling the space between them. All he really knew is that her hands were the softest things he had ever held, and she was warm and alive and looking deep into his eyes. The next thing he knew was her body against him, her lips pressed to his, and he didn't know who had kissed who and not knowing was _wonderful_.

A while later, the pair lay on the double bed in silence. Rose's head was resting on the Doctor's chest, listening to the double heartbeat. The sweetness of the Doctor's kisses still lingered, and Rose could only think, in a rather hazy manner, that he was much less of a gentleman, and had not stopped so they could both sober up. But the memory of the last thing he said before they curled up still whispered in her heart:

'Rose Tyler, from this day on, I promise I will never stop kissing you.'


End file.
